Out of Luck
by DreamBrother
Summary: Just because you don't believe in luck doesn't mean it doesn't believe in you." Written for the pre-series round over at Numb3rs Write-Off. I’m in Team Schmoop and my theme was “crack”.


**Disclaimer: **Numb3rs is the property of CBS; I do not profit from this venture.

**A/N: **Written for the pre-series round over at Numb3rs Write-Off. I'm in Team Schmoop and my theme was "crack".

On a more personal note: I'm sorry I've been so lax in correspondance lately (most especially in replying to reviews), but I do appreciate each and every one of them and I'll attempt to get back to everyone as soon as I can.

P.S. In other news, I'm taking part in a charity sky-dive for my university. If you would be interested in sponsoring me, there is more information in my profile.

On to the fic (with which I cross 200,000 words :-)):

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**Out of Luck**

It all went downhill from Monday.

Don paused on his way to his room as the sound of something shattering reached his ears. Raising an eyebrow as he then caught the whispered stream of what could only be curses emanating from behind the bedroom door, he turned towards the source of commotion.

"Charlie?" Don knocked once on the door before letting himself in without any reply from his younger brother. He figured after years of having his own room invaded, it was only right to return the favour. "Everything alright in here?"

"Watch it!" came the quickly reply, and Don stuck his head in through the tiny gap between door and door-post to find that he'd almost knocked his crouching baby brother on the head.

Charlie shifted out of the way slightly, and Don eased himself in before shutting the door behind him to create as much space as possible. Looking down to see why his baby brother was on his knees on the floor, Don found himself being reflected back in tiny pieces.

"Uh oh, you broke a mirror?"

"Yes, I broke a mirror. Big deal," mumbled Charlie as he reached out and carefully picked up one sharp piece and placed it on the pile growing in his other hand.

"Big words, little brother, big words," Don replied as he crouched down next to Charlie to help. "Don't you know what happens if you break a mirror?"

"Face an inquisition from the mother?"

"Besides that. Come on, Chuck, don't tell me you don't know?"

Charlie just shrugged his shoulders in a show of ignorance and Don rolled his eyes at the thought that of all the things the genius didn't know and he did, it was superstition.

"Break a mirror – seven years bad luck? Sound familiar?"

It was Charlie's turn to roll his eyes. "Please. There's no evidence to support the conclusion that a person will experience seven years of bad luck from the premise of breaking a mirror. And that's assuming that there exists such a thing as luck."

Don raised his hands in surrender. "If that's the way you want to play it. Then don't come to me later on asking for the solution. Just because you don't believe in luck, doesn't mean it doesn't believe in you," Don added ominously.

As if on cue, Charlie cut his finger on a sharp edge of the last remaining shard that he'd been reaching towards.

"Ouch!" Charlie yelped, and watched as blood began to well up from his wound.

"Give me that," Don said, reaching towards the shards pile in Charlie's hand and tipping it over onto his palm. "Don't move."

Getting up, Don left the room but returned within a minute with a bandage but without the mirror shards.

As he wound the adhesive around the cut on Charlie's finger, he couldn't resist whispering:

"And so, it begins."

x-x-x-x-x

And began, it did.

On Tuesday, Charlie had to stay back in school an extra hour for the first time in his educational career. During lunch, his mind has caught onto a problem and had only released him half-way through his World Literature class. Everything that running away from bullies and older brothers bent on revenge had taught him in the art of speed couldn't get him out of a detention. Don selflessly volunteered to drive him back home afterwards by getting detained himself. After all, what was breaking another rule if he got to see his genius baby brother in detention?

Wednesday, Charlie lost his wallet on the way to the bookstore to buy his father a birthday present, and along with it all the money he'd saved up for said birthday present.

Thursday fared no better for the youngest Eppes as an incident in the cafeteria had a girl spilling her glass of water all over his trousers as he stood in line. It turned worse when his favourite-by-far advanced physics tutor later informed him that he'd accepted a job offer back East and would be leaving on the first flight that weekend.

Friday morning began drearily. LA had experienced an unexpected thunderstorm all night long and it was still pouring steadily in the morning as Charlie trudged up to the solarium to grab a book he'd left there yesterday when he'd been working. The mood of the morning matched his as he was the first to discover a leak in the solarium's roof and his once-filled chalkboards now displaying nothing but long streaks of wet chalk.

Saturday didn't get any better. The rain had turned everything to sludge as Charlie unfortunately found out as his foot slipped and he landed flat on his back, a stack of papers flying out of his hand. As he watched the white sheets of paper swirl above him as gravity eventually pulled them downwards, Charlie sighed... and cracked.

x-x-x-x

Don was sitting at the edge of his bed, cloth in one hand and baseball cleat in the other, when Charlie came a-knocking.

"Come in," he called out, not lifting his head as he tried to scrub out a particularly stubborn bit of dirt.

"You mentioned something about a solution?"

Don couldn't hide the surprise on his face as he saw his brother standing in the door-way, mud on his hair, face and clothes.

"What happened to you?"

"Well, if you're to be believed, a broken mirror happened." Charlie rolled his eyes in the face of a full-out grin on Don's face. "So, a solution. Is there, or isn't there?"

"Hmm, I never thought dating Janice would be so beneficial in the long run," murmured Don, almost to himself.

"Isn't she the girl you broke up with a few months ago?"

"Yeah. She was really superstitious, and I mean _really_ superstitious. Who the hell doesn't go to a Queen concert because it's on a Friday, the 13th?" Don shook his head at the memory. "Anyway, solution. Can't take it anymore, huh? It hasn't even been a week."

Charlie shrugged. "Short term pain for long term gain. I rather not be the test subject for the seven year hypothesis."

"Right. Meet me tonight in the backyard at midnight. And make sure you don't wake up Mom and Dad on the way out."

Charlie seemed dubious as he crinkled his nose. "You're not going to make me dance naked under the pale moonlight, are you?"

Don grinned. "Damn, why didn't I think of that first? Nah, as much as I'd like to see that, it's much simpler. Bring a shovel, by the way."

"You're not going to ... bury me... are you?"

Don raised his eyebrows. "What do you think I am, bro?" Charlie still seemed doubtful, so Don elaborated. "According to Janice, the only way to negate the bad luck of breaking a mirror is to bury its pieces under the moonlight. Happy? You get to stay fully-clothed and above ground."

"Um... Don?"

"Yeah?"

"One problem – I don't have the broken pieces."

Don shook his head one again. Having a genius brother took its fair share of effort, after all. He jerked his chin towards his desk. "Oh ye of little faith. I have them."

"You do? Why?" Charlie asked curiously.

"I figured you'd break eventually. Whether it's because you couldn't take the bad luck anymore, or you'd do a risk assessment or something geeky like that, I didn't know. Better safe than sorry, right?"

Don finished cleaning his boots and threw the cloth towards Charlie. "Go clean up before Mom sees you. And don't be late tonight."

x-x-x-x-x-x

Patting the shovel on the ground, Charlie tried to smooth over the piece of garden he'd just dug up and then filled back in. Wiping away the sweat from his eyes, he looked up at his brother who sat on the porch, watching his efforts.

"There. It's done. It's over now?" He asked.

Before Don could reply, a window opened overhead and:

"_Charlie! What the hell are you doing outside in the middle of the night with a shovel?"_

Hidden comfortably from their father's view, Don just shrugged and whispered for his brothers' ears only:

"I never said the bad luck would end immediately."

**Khatum (The End)

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**_This fic was written for the Angst vs Schmoop Challenge at Numb3rs Write-Off. After you've read the fic, please rate it by voting in the poll located here (**http: // www. livejournal. com /poll /?id =1336959**). (Your vote will be anonymous.) Rate the fic on a scale of 1 - 10 (10 being the best) using the following criteria: how well the fic fit the prompt, how angsty [or schmoopy] the fic was, and how well you enjoyed the fic. When you're done, please check out the other challenge fic at Numb3rs Write-Off. Thank you!_**  
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